Friday, 11 April 2014

When your worst nightmare becomes your reality, again, and again

I spent yesterday reading your comments in between sob-fests, pity parties, watching 80 mind numbing cooking shows and shovelling take out food down my throat.

Thank you doesn't even begin to touch on the gratefulness I feel for your generosity of heart. I showed D your comments, and he said, "Wow. Those are some really great people".  He's so right.  Thank you for your gentle words and helping me keep my head above water.

Later today, I hope to write about what happened during our ultrasound and after, but I need just a little more time to process it all.

Right now, I fear that the depressed/anxious girl that has been living comfortably in my brain for weeks (years?) has now received the fuel she needed to become a full blown, raging control freak. She's yelling "I told you so! This is never going to work, muhahahah! Nana-nana-nana!" At the top of her bitchy high pitched voice. 

She was right this time. She won, again. She went up against 6 MOTHER fucking years of research and treatments, too many doctor's appintments to count, enough money to buy a long row of new cars or feed the homeless in my city for a year.  And, now,  impressively a 21 year old's donor egg and one of the best fertility clinics in the USA.  She won.  I don't want to even fucking believe it. 

Even though I feared this happening from day one, I am somehow still in shock. 

I'm not sure how to continue now.  I always fought for my body, thinking that it was an embryo quality issue that we had before.  However, now something new has been added to the equation.  Now I add a beautiful hatching 5AA DE blast to the list of babies that has died in my uterus.  No, I don't know that it was chromosomally normal.  And maybe even if it was, it would have died.  I don't know what to think.

Right now I just feel stupid for having chased this dream for this long.  Maybe I should have seen the writing on the wall a long time ago.  Maybe I should have listened to that little voice in my head.

If there's one thing I've learned about grief and coping with loss, it's that today no decisions need to be made. Today is about eating, sleeping and just getting through the day.  

Why couldn't this have just worked for once?


  1. "Even though I feared this happening from day one, I am somehow still in shock." this is perfect. This is exactly what I've been trying to explain for years. Yes, I said I didn't think it would work, and yet yes, I'm still incredibly upset and shocked over and over and over. I'm so sorry, dear.

    I actually think you're handling this really, really well. Despite your shock and your grief, you've got your head on straight. I always jump to extremes: "no more treatments" or "straight to CCRM" or "it's time to adopt" following the tough losses. But you're right, you don't need to make any decisions right now. Grieve your loss. We're here, grieving with you. Hugs to you, my friend.

  2. I know you are meant to be a mother. All of the years of strength and perseverance has shown that over and over.

    I don't know why this didn't work, but I am holding you in my heart and hoping that one of your frosty babies is your future take home son or daughter. God knows you deserve it.

  3. comment part one:
    As you know, I have been exactly where you are right now. It is no comfort to me to have company in this experience and I was hoping hard that you would get to avoid this and just move the fuck ON, and I feel a lot of anger right now that you don't get to do that.

    This is one of those situations where I don't say "I can only imagine what you are feeling," because I don't have to imagine. We move on to donor egg because we've been told by countless well-respected medical professionals that the problem has been the EGG---the egg, the egg, the egg. We hear it so many times, from so many smart people, that we think that moving on to donor egg will surely be our answer. The chances of miscarriage are extremely low. This will be it. We can finally have our baby and move on.

    And then we miscarry again. With an embryo that the medical professionals are all saying is "excellent." My first, the one I miscarried, was called by my doctor an "uber embryo."

    It simply boggles the mind and leaves us in no-man's land with nothing but television and the scraps of our coping mechanisms, which are truly worse for wear, or so it seems.

    Now on my second donor egg pregnancy, and things are looking good, better than last time, and I really wish I could reassure you by saying I've passed through gates I haven't yet passed through---but I have not. A couple of more weeks, and I'll be there. I hope. After all of the intense work I've done trying to reconnect my mind and body, all of the diet changes and stress reduction, I have to say that I simply cannot have unadulterated confidence. I must admit that I am more worried than I am anything. It's impossible to be otherwise...

    I mention this because in actuality there is no reason for me to be worried. It's my traumatized mind setting traps for me. And right now, your mind is going to set a lot of traps for you, too. It's infuriating, because you have to endure the trap-making, the depression, the self-blame. There's no fucking way around it, and it just BLOWS. But it always helped me to be reminded that that phase is just that---a phase. And if you can hold onto the raft while it is bumping over the rapids like a bitch, you will reach a nice, peaceful stretch of river, where the sun is shining, I promise you. And I don't make promises lightly.

  4. comment part two:

    It is wise to try to not make any decisions right now, but your mind will go ahead and throw out a thousand possibilities anyway, suggestions which you have to ignore. Another herculean effort. UGH.

    The only comfort I can offer you, not knowing what happened in your case or why, is to say that your donor egg experience doesn't have to be over yet, and it may work out the second time around. My first donor egg loss was a normal karyotype son, about the worst outcome possible, so this pregnancy is particularly scary, constantly wondering if there is some undetectable thing wrong with my body, or some undetectable thing wrong with my husband's sperm. But when I had that lost, I heard from countless women. And a couple of them had had even more losses than I have (a rarity), and inexplicable losses of normal karyotype embryos, and indeed they went on to have successful pregnancies. I've clung to those stories, think of them often. One woman said: "Even with donor egg, there's sometimes something else going on."

    Some of those women have written things to me like: "There are some things we will just never be able to explain," and now that they are moms, they are leaving it at that.

    I wish that for both of us. To be through with this wobbly landscape, baby in arms, and to be able to say: "Well, that was the worst, and I don't understand why that happened, but now I don't care if I ever do."

    Or maybe in your case the test of the embryo will show a chromosomal abnormality. But just know that if it is normal, it doesn't necessarily mean anything about your body or your husband's sperm. A does not equal B.

    I have my own theories that are based on nothing scientific, but that help me sometimes. I think sometimes that my body has memory, and all it remembers is loss. And the first try at donor egg didn't work because I hadn't done enough to "retrain" my body, to open it to life. Who knows, after all, the intricate unseen unknowable ways trauma affects the body. (I don't always believe this theory, but sometimes it just makes so much sense to me, and at the very least, provides me comfort, because it provides me with some modicum of control over my experience.)

    Longest comment ever. I'm deeply sorry and thinking about you a lot, with tenderness, sorrow, and hope. Take good care of your good self!


    1. Thank you. I agree with what you have shared.

  5. My dear friend. Please know that you are not stupid for having this dream. It's simply unfair that to achieve this dream, you've gone through so much heartache. I still believe that you will be a mother and an absolutely beautiful mother at that.

    Be kind to yourself. I'm thinking about you all the time and sending lots of love your way.

  6. I saw the update on Suzanne's post and came right over, not wanting to believe it. I still can hardly believe it. This is so devastating. I'm so, so very sorry.
    We lost a pregnancy at 12 weeks and that day was one of the worst I've experienced. There is only sleeping, eating and breathing. Nothing else needs to happen right now.
    My thoughts are with you. I hope for better days for you.

  7. I 100% agree with Suzanne, this is a dream EVERY woman has and has the right to have. You have to be true to yourself and do all you can do to achieve this dream-NOTHING is stupid about it. Until you feel you are "supposed" to go another way, you are doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing . I too often think about the money and the time and the evil infertile witch that sits on my shoulder and laughs. You have a mothers heart as so much freaking love-I know that is not there for no reason. This is so lame, so unfair. The most deserving mommy. hang in there sweet friend.

  8. The unfairness of this is gutting, I continue to be so, so very sorry. Although I have no words that can help I just wanted to comment again today and let you know that I'm thinking of you.

  9. I wish I had the words to comfort you right now. It breaks my heart to know you are in pain. What a down right shitty hand you've been dealt this time around. I hope you take your time to grieve and decide on your next step, whatever they are, i hope they bring you peace

  10. Words cannot express how sorry I am to hear of your loss. After all you have been through, it is a tremendously painful and unjust ending to this chapter of your story. I commend you on how hard you have fought and continue to fight in this struggle to have the family you always pictured. You deserve so much better than this. There is no explanation any doctor could provide that would make it any easier, but I hope you are able to find some comfort in knowing that you are not alone in this struggle. There are so many of us out there who understand the anguish of infertility and pregnancy loss after infertility. The one thing that helps me in my darkest days is to remember that this extreme sadness and heartbreaking disappointment are only temporary. You will survive this struggle and one way or another it will eventually end. I know IF will leave it's deep scars in and on all of us, but eventually we will be able to move forward and live more normally again. I truly hope you get the ending you so desire and deserve. Until you are ready to consider your next steps, please be good to yourself and allow yourself to have those necessary pity parties and sob fests. You have earned them. Sending you endless prayers and love.

  11. I don't know what to say. Reading your words, knowing what you are going through, both makes me sad and terrified. Sad for the loss you are experiencing, and terrified because, as The Unexpected Trip said so well, donor egg is supposed to be the answer. And then sometimes it just isn't, and we don't know why. But please take heart from her words, and though you don't have to make any decisions now, know that you have us here to support you however you proceed.

  12. Your words all soften the blow. Thank you, thank you, thank you.


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